


Twine

by finch (afinch)



Category: Full House (US), Fuller House
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8949817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/finch
Summary: They may have both escaped the house, but they can't escape each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarknightz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarknightz/gifts).



> Does contain spoilers for Fuller House, but nothing explicit. As in, if you wanted to read this and then watch Fuller House, this spoils less than the trailer does.

"I have to tell you something," Michelle was standing at the top of the stairs, a worried look on her face. 

Steph rolled her shoulders back, looking at her younger sister with raised eyebrows. "You do realize your graduation party is about to start. And I can't keep secrets."

Michelle nodded, "I know, but … I think on this one you will. Here, come to my room."

There was no use in resisting, that wasn't how things worked in their house, so Steph followed and folded her arms once in Michelle's room. It had changed, as Michelle became a teenager. Really it had changed after the accident. Michelle had gone from a bold, outdoorsy girl to shut in with crayons. Okay, that was a little mean, Michelle had become an artist, but she was more withdrawn than she had been as a child.

"I'm not going to Bryant in the fall," Michelle truth-bombed, giving Steph little time to react.

"Of course you are!" she said. "Don't let dad's guilt get to you. You're going to go and you're going to be ama-"

"No," Michelle said. She took a step back as Steph moved forward. "None of this pep-talk. Don't be dad." She started to pace, looking really nervous. "I've been thinking about this for a while, now. I know I'm going for environmental studies but …" she gestured around the room. "This, this is my passion. If I don't do this, I'll never have a chance to do it again … just look. Please look"

They were only four years apart, but Steph always felt closer to DJ, despite their larger age difference. Maybe it was because they could remember their mother and so Michelle, having been just a baby, always seemed younger, seemed like part of the 'other': people who knew them before mom died, and the people after. 

As Steph looked around the room, she realized she hadn't really looked at it before. The room was covered in fashion magazines and posters of models. Scattered among them were drawings Michelle had done. 

"Some of these are really good, Michelle," she said. "But why are you going to give up college for this?"

"Look, you didn't go to college either!" Michelle protested. This was true, but only thanks to the settlement money. The money was from the civil suit their father had filed against the driver. Steph didn't know details - she'd never cared to look them up - but she knew it had settled before going to court. DJ had used the money for college, but she hadn't known it was there until after she'd agreed to go; their father hadn't told them about it until DJ turned eighteen and gained access to it. Stephanie had taken her money and literally run, trying to start a music career all over the globe. She hadn't even, until this moment, felt a twinge of guilt for leaving her little sister all alone.

Michelle continued, "And dad let you run off, but it was never an option for me, I was always going to use that money responsibly, and go to college. Bryant was a way to do that and still get away - do you know he said he'd come visit every other week?"

Steph held a hand up, "Michelle, don't let being upset at dad watching his younges-"

"You haven't been here," Michelle countered. "You haven't been here, and neither has DJ, and whether you go downstairs and tell everyone or not, I'm still doing it." The guilt was now heavy in Steph's stomach, she'd never considered that Michelle had felt just as trapped as she had. Their father was wonderful, and she loved him, but he was overprotective, and the simplistic way both he and her uncles solved problems didn't reflect Stephanie's increased understanding of the world. The idea that Michelle could have the same experience was only just now occurring to her, and she felt like a terrible sister for never having considered it.

Michelle didn't wait for Steph to process this newfound emotion and stalked out of the room, leaving Steph to stand there in stunned silence.

What was she going to do? 

*

Steph was woken the next morning by DJ urgently shaking her awake, "Steph come on, Michelle's gone, and Dad's a mess." DJ looked like she was going to cry, but Steph was too tired to try to comfort her.

She looked at the clock: 7:10. No matter what timezone she was in, it was too early. She groaned and pulled herself out of bed. "Michelle, what did you do?" she muttered as she made her way downstairs. 

Her father looked white with shock. Steph could only remember seeing him like this once before, at five years old, when her mother died. He looked heartbroken; like he had lost something he hadn't realized it was possible to lose.

DJ spoke, softly, "Steph, Michelle left last night. She left dad a note, saying she was sorry, but she had to leave."

"It says to ask you if we have any questions," he interrupted. "Did she … did Michelle tell you she was leaving and you didn't tell us?" 

Steph rubbed her eyes. Michelle hadn't told her it was happening _immediately_ and there'd been people to avoid at her party; thank goodness for Jackson. Toddlers were easy company when trying to keep a secret. She shook her head. Back the present. "She told me she wasn't going to Bryant, she didn't tell me she was leaving."

There was a clamor at that statement, as everyone immediately starting demanding where Michelle had gone. Steph threw her hands up and took a few steps back, "Whoa whoa whoa, I don't know anything more than that. She wants to draw, or be an artist, something with clothes, maybe? She wasn't very clear."

"An artist? Why an artist? She never mentioned being an artist."

"Dad," Steph said. "How much have you really paid attention to Michelle these last few years? Been inside her room and looked around?"

Her father looked sad, "I don't know. She didn't like it when I'd come in. She just became a different person after the accident. She changed into someone who wasn't the Michelle we knew."

"You can't expect her to stay nine years old forever," DJ said. She looked down at Jackson. "I mean, I love this little guy, but I don't expect him to be the same person his whole life. None of us are like that."

Steph was glad her sister was a mother now, and could actually weigh in. Steph was also glad she wasn't a mother and didn't have to feel compelled to weigh in.

"I want my daughter back," their dad said, and Steph didn't know what answer to give.

"What if she doesn't come back?" he added. 

"Dad, she needs to find her own path," Steph said. "She wrote you a letter, she talked to me, she loves us. She just isn't nine years old anymore. She stopped being nine years old a long time ago. Maybe it's time to stop holding her to that."

She was starting to understand, but she didn't think her father was going to get there that morning. Luckily, Michelle called a few hours later, after her flight landed in New York. She announced she was using her settlement money to jump-start a career in fashion. She also agreed to a visit from their dad in two weeks' time, and Steph knew however their relationship repaired or didn't was going to come in baby steps.

*

Stephanie quietly booked a ticket for the same afternoon her father was leaving for New York, but she was headed out to Ibiza. Don't look back, wasn't that her motto? Besides, it was the start of the summer season, and she had a career to get off the ground.

Truth was, she liked Ibiza. It was loud, chaotic, and a mix of the super wealthy and androgenous white-dress, cave-dwelling hippies. One thing they both had in common was drugs, but Steph, ever saccharine, worked and partied without being under the influence. 

When a jellyfish sting knocked her off her feet for a few days towards the end of summer, she threw up a quick _recovering from jellyfish encounter_ on her blogspot, and didn't think much of it. 

She was surprised when Michelle called the next morning.

"I saw your blog, are you okay?"

Steph laughed, "You read my blog?"

Even from Ibiza, she could hear Michelle shrug through the phone, "Yeah, I read it. I like to know what you're up to. Dad's been out to visit six times already. I need to live vicariously through you for a bit. Breaking free was harder than I thought." 

"Well," Steph said, "If you're living vicariously through me, you have a swollen leg and aren't allowed to have a drink for the next week because of the pain meds."

The phone was silent for a moment. "You're not, um, mixing things are you? Or um, doing anything?"

"Gosh, no! Michelle!" Steph exclaimed. "Are _you_?"

Michelle was silent for a moment, "No."

Steph didn't say anything; she knew there was more Michelle wanted to say. Sure enough, Michelle began again, "But there's already been some pressure. You dealt with this, a lot, having to handle some bad things. I would ask Deej, but she …" Michelle trailed off.

She didn't need to expand on that. DJ had always been the perfect one, Michelle the adorable baby, and, well, that left Steph with the street cred. Even years later, Steph didn't like how that was perceived by her younger sister.

Steph found herself railing, "No Michelle, we all dealt with peer pressure and uncomfortable things. Just because it was convenient to make that my life narrative-"

"You can't deny there was a lot of attention on you and your friends. Dad wrote you off as the 'problem middle-child' ages ago," Michelle interrupted. "Besides, even if you weren't, I still can't ask Deej, so I'm asking you."

It still hurt that her sister played into the narrative their father wrote for her, but hadn't she been just as guilty of buying into Michelle's false narrative herself? The rest was a solid argument. "Fair," Steph said. "Okay, so people use drugs because they need to fit in, like it loosens you up, you know? Makes you less so-aware of yourself. If you're confident, you won't need drugs and the people around you won't insist you use them either."

"Steph," Michelle started. "That is some serious PSA babble that-"

It was Steph's turn to interrupt, "Ah, but was it helpful?" Steph had a feeling this is how life was going to go; her little sister was going to push herself forward, and separate herself from the smothering home they'd grown up in, but needed to know it was okay to still hold on to some family values.

Steph held her breath and let Michelle sit silent on the phone for several moments. 

"Yes," Michelle finally conceded. "Your stupid pep talk was helpful." She sounded as though she hated that it was. 

It would have been standard for her to quip back "How rude!" but having left the house and struck it out on her own, Steph knew Michelle needed to pretend to not need it. And in that moment Steph decided that she would help Michelle by being okay with it.

"Call me anytime," she said, instead.

"Really?" Michelle sounded surprised.

Steph laughed, "We're allowed to grow up, Michelle. We're not trapped in that house forever."

"You got it, dude."

And Steph knew, no matter what the future brought, the two of them were going to be okay.


End file.
